"Are you okay?"
"Yeah… I'm fine. Don't worry," James Aron replied calmly, stepping in sync with Victoria as they exited the NYPD building.
Victoria glanced at him. "Aren't you happy about the compliment from that woman earlier?"
Aron gave a faint smile. "I don't know. Honestly, it doesn't matter to me." He tilted his head slightly, watching the Manhattan sky beginning to change colors. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have gotten that phone. It's all because of you, Victoria. You're the one who deserves the credit, not me."
"That doesn't matter to me," Victoria replied simply.
Aron turned to her, his eyes full of sincerity. "Still, thank you, Victoria."
Victoria looked at him, and for a moment, their gazes met. A small smile appeared on both their faces simultaneously.
"Treat me to a meal," Victoria said casually.
"I know the best restaurant. Follow me," Aron replied.
"The best? What kind of food?"
"Pizza."
Victoria's face lit up instantly. "I've been craving pizza for so long."
"Then let's go."
The sun slowly disappeared on the western horizon, leaving a fading orange glow. Streetlights, billboards, and skyscrapers began to light up one by one, breathing life into the Manhattan city that never truly sleeps.
Aron and Victoria spent their time enjoying pizza at a well-known restaurant. Victoria's laughter was light and carefree, clearly showing she was savoring the moment. After finishing, they walked side by side along the city streets, letting the Manhattan night witness a simple yet meaningful togetherness.
"I should get going. Maybe I won't see you tomorrow," Victoria said softly.
"Forever?" Aron replied, his tone clearly surprised.
Victoria's lips curved slightly as she looked at him. "Of course not."
Aron chuckled. "It's fine. You can meet me anytime."
They walked along the increasingly quiet sidewalk. Suddenly, Victoria looked at Aron from the side.
"Why have you never asked about me?"
Aron fell silent. No answer came.
Victoria let out a slow sigh.
"Because you already know who I am?"
"Who you are doesn't matter," Aron finally said, looking at Victoria without hesitation. "I don't care."
"Even though you know… I'll drink your blood?"
Aron's steps stopped immediately. His eyes darted around, wild, as if searching for something. Victoria frowned, puzzled by his reaction.
"What are you looking for?"
Aron didn't answer. He kept moving, until his gaze landed on a narrow alley by the side of the street. Without warning, he grabbed Victoria's arm.
"Follow me."
"Where?"
"Just follow."
Aron glanced left and right before leading Victoria into the alley. The streetlights didn't reach here—only long shadows accompanied them. Victoria's face showed clear confusion, yet she complied.
Once they reached a quiet spot, Aron released his grip.
"Here, Victoria. Please… don't ask why I'm doing this."
"What are you going to do?"
"I told you—don't ask."
"I know, but—"
Aron stared at her with intensity. No smile, no teasing tone. Finally, Victoria gave in.
"Fine. I won't ask."
Without hesitation, Aron rolled up the sleeve of his suit, unbuttoned his shirt, and pushed the fabric up.
Victoria watched, furrowing her brow. As a vampire, she knew exactly what that meant.
"Drink my blood. Now," Aron commanded firmly.
Victoria took a step back. "I'm not hungry."
"You have to, Victoria."
"I already said I'm not hungry."
"I don't care," Aron said sharply. "I just want you to drink my blood. Now."
Victoria felt trapped between leaving and staying. She knew she could turn away and walk off, but her feet refused to move. After a few moments that stretched like eternity, she made her choice.
Slowly, Victoria opened her mouth. Her fangs extended without her realizing it. Aron offered his arm.
Victoria hesitated, then finally—reluctantly—bit down into Aron's arm.
She drank, and for some reason, the taste was far more intoxicating than anything she had ever experienced. The warm, pulsing flow made her forget to stop.
Yet, at the same time, tears streamed down her face without warning. Her vision blurred as she stared at Aron. In her mind, he must be disgusted by her, seeing her like this.
But Aron showed no disgust. He only smiled—calmly, without judgment. His hand rose slowly to touch Victoria's cheek, wiping away the tears that fell one by one.
The touch jolted Victoria.
She immediately released the lawyer's arm and stepped back. Her breathing was uneven, her expression confused, and her hands covered her mouth as if trying to hold back something she couldn't explain.
Without a word, Victoria turned and walked away, leaving the alley without so much as a goodbye.
Aron remained where he was, watching Victoria's figure fade into the distance. His expression stayed calm. He lowered his sleeve, adjusted his suit neatly, then stepped out of the alley as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.
This time, Aron walked alone. Both hands were tucked into his pockets, his pace steady as he moved through the ever-awake city streets. His face revealed nothing, as though the world around him was merely passing scenery, devoid of meaning.
Unbeknownst to Aron, atop the roof of a nearby building, Victoria stood motionless, observing his every step. The night wind lifted strands of her hair, yet her gaze never wavered for even a second.
"My Lord?"
Victoria did not turn around. Behind her stood a woman and two men dressed in black, their postures straight, heads lowered in respect.
"We searched everywhere for you, My Lord. We feared something terrible had happened," the woman—Alena—said, her voice filled with worry.
Victoria gave no response. Her eyes remained fixed on Aron below. However, unease was clearly written on Alena's face, as though she carried news too heavy to delay.
"Say it, Alena," Victoria said calmly, as if she already knew what troubled her follower, without needing to turn around.
Alena drew a breath. "M-My Lord… while the followers were searching for you, Marius entered Lycan territory. Their presence was discovered, and a clash broke out with several Lycans."
"Any deaths?" Victoria asked coldly.
"No, My Lord. But—"
"Speak," Victoria pressed.
"Farkas… wishes to meet you."
Silence fell.
"Send Curren."
Alena stiffened in shock. "My Lord, Curren is not one who negotiates. If he is sent, a fight is inevitable."
"That is exactly what I want."
Victoria finally turned. Her expression was hardened, her voice low yet dangerous.
"Who do they think they are, daring to request a meeting with me, Alena?"
Alena and the two men behind her immediately dropped to their knees.
"We would never dare, My Lord. Please forgive us," Alena said, bowing deeply.
Victoria walked slowly along the edge of the rooftop, her steps calm but alert. Her gaze never shifted, still following Aron as he disappeared farther below.
"Tell Curren," Victoria ordered without looking back, her voice firm and cold, "to tell Farkas the truth. If that beast refuses to believe him…"
Her steps came to a halt.
"Then destroy them. A beast that does not know its place."
"Yes, My Lord. I will carry out your command at once." Alena hesitated before adding, "But… what about you, My Lord?"
"You may all leave first. I will return later."
"Yes, My Lord."
Alena and the two men stood up, then vanished in the blink of an eye.
Victoria was alone again. She continued walking along the edge of the rooftop until she saw Aron hailing a taxi below. The light atop the cab flickered on, briefly illuminating his face before the door opened.
Victoria stopped in her tracks.
"Who are you really, Aron?" she whispered softly, her voice carried away by the night wind.
***
Time moved quickly. Night was creeping toward midnight, yet Manhattan seemed never to sleep. The streets remained busy with traffic, and on the sidewalks, people kept walking without pause. The wail of police and ambulance sirens echoed back and forth, creating a symphony of a city that never rests.
Beneath a tall building, the area was filled with police vehicles, including an ambulance stationed at the curb. A man in a blue suit was being escorted by two police officers, his hands cuffed.
"It wasn't me! Please, you have to believe me, it wasn't me!" he struggled, panic rising in his voice, but the officers forced him into the car. Still, he continued to plead, his tone growing increasingly desperate.
Detective Craig let out a long sigh, his eyes watching the man closely from beside the police car.
"He wasn't on the same floor as the victim, and he claims he tried to give CPR. Wouldn't he have noticed the signs of strangulation?" Detective Harper asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and skepticism. They were both assigned to the NYPD 1st Precinct, responsible for Downtown Manhattan and the Financial District.
"That's something we'll have to question him about later," Craig replied, his gaze sharp and fixed on the man.
"Oh, by the way… did you get a statement from the cleaner?" Harper asked, glancing at Craig as he waited for an answer.
Craig nodded slowly.
"Heading home?" Harper asked again, his tone weary.
"If I can," Craig replied, rubbing his eyes, exhaustion clear on his face.
"Late night again, huh?"
Harper chuckled softly, breaking the tense silence of the night.